


Counting Dragons

by tsukinofaerii



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Hatching, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinofaerii/pseuds/tsukinofaerii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hatching is close, and everyone has their own problems. The son of Lord Ista doesn't fit in with the other candidates, the twin boys from Destiny Hold refuse to be separated, and the Weyrling Master has to solve the years-long dilemma of his old love affair with the Weyrleader. But dragon eggs wait for no man, and neither does thread.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> This was written and then never edited/posted back in 2009. I've since opened it back up and gave it a quick spit shine, but it's still an Old Fic.

> "Admiral Benden, sir," said Sean, rider of bronze Carenath, "may I present the Dragonriders of Pern?"  
> Dragonsdawn by Anne McCaffrey  
> 

The sharp crack of his father's boot against the flagstones startled Riku from his work. His stylus paused, dug deep into the wax half-way through one of the Sagas he'd been assigned. The journeyman harper who'd been supervising him bowed and excused himself under the Lord Holder's gaze, ducking past a shadowed figure in the doorway.

It was a fine day, one better spent outside than in, but he was stuck bent over a wax tablet anyway. Lessons were unavoidable, and on better days almost enjoyable, but the weather and fresh breeze made it hard to concentrate. So the interruption was welcome, even if it were only for a moment.

"Father? Is something wrong?" Riku brushed his pale hair off his sweaty forehead and stood, chin up, fingers tight around the tablet. He glanced at the stranger—a dragonman by his gear, his shoulder knot marking him as a wingleader from Ista Weyr. It looked like it could be the bronze rider who had eaten dinner with them the previous night. The man had been polite enough, even talking extensively to Riku who, at only thirteen Turns, didn't usually merit such attention. 

It wasn't unusual for riders to visit Ista Hold. His father welcomed even green and blue riders when they had time to spare on their patrols, and few would refuse the hospitality of the Hold. But never before had they bothered with _him_ , other than a passing glance for the Lord Holder's youngest.

His father's green eyes seemed to shine in the light that came through the open window. With shock, Riku realized his father was close to tears. "My son, I have something to speak of with you."

* * *

Saora had never seen a dragon up close. Everyone had seen them flying Thread, of course, but they'd never landed at Destiny Hold in all his twelve Turns. The island it was on, just off the coast of Big Island, was too small to offer anything a _dragonrider_ would want that couldn't be gotten from the larger hold to the north. They tithed with their catch and did their work on the ground during Fall. Everyone seemed content with things as they were. _Saora_ had been content.

Until the dragon landed. 

The sun was high overhead, pounding down with a summer heat as it arced toward midday. Its light made the bulk of the Red Star fade into the green of the sky, until it was almost possible to ignore the menace looming overhead. Saora'd been mending nets on the pier when the blue dragon landed on the beach, taking up almost the entire stretch of sand. The other boys all dropped their work and ran to greet the rider, staying well out of reach of the dragon, but Saora stayed in his place, transfixed, hands still on the lines. He barely blinked until the wind blew his brown hair into his eyes. Even then he only brushed it back with a calloused hand.

Eventually the rider went inside, escorted by a handful of adults and every person who'd even been close enough to run. A visit by a dragonrider was Important—everyone would want to be able to say they'd spoken to him, or touched him. Stories would make the round for months, and then be brought out in later years like trophies, expanding over time until the dragon was a queen and the rider Moreta herself, returned from beyond _between_ just for them. 

After only a handful of minutes, the beach was as empty as a Bitran's word. There was only him—

And the dragon.

He was beautiful, an almost glowing shade of rich blue like in the best of dyes. Stretched out he took up most of the sandy portion of the beach. A brown would have had to curl up, and a bronze would have been acutely uncomfortable, but the smaller color fit just well enough to dig himself a wallow in the powdery-fine sand, until a good portion of his sides were lost to a new dune. Even his nose was buried in a trench, the great glowing eyes soft with the shades of the sea. 

Everyone knows they don't eat people, Saora reassured himself, setting his work neatly in a pile. Let everyone else gawk at the rider. _He_ wanted to see the dragon.

_Raoxas will never believe this!_

Moving as carefully as he ever had hunting tunnel snakes in the lower levels of the hold, Saora crept down the pier. He avoided the loose planks he knew would creak, heart pounding in his chest so loudly he knew the dragon _must_ have heard. Energy crackled in his veins, made his skin too tight, until he was aware of every sweat drop that trickled down his back. His short trousers clung to his skinny legs where the sea spray had soaked them. Every move he made brought the sound of them clinging and rubbing, but short of stripping bare there was no help for it. 

Fortunately, the dragon didn't seem to mind his clumsy attempts at secrecy. The second lid of its eyes slipped open sleepily as he approached, close enough that a fast snap would have been the end of him. In human terms, he was still at least a body length away.

"He—hello." Inwardly he cursed the stutter, even while his stomach tried to tie itself in a knot. He shifted uncomfortably on the hot sand, but his soles were tough from a lifetime of wandering the beaches barefoot, so the heat was bearable. 

The dragon's final inner lid opened to watch him with what he thought might be curiosity. He didn't know if the blue could understand, but dogs responded well to a kind voice. Dragons were supposed to be much smarter than dogs—maybe as smart as people. "I'm Saora... I hope I'm not bothering you?"

A definite sense of amusement, and welcome, emanated from the dragon. Saora stepped forward, hand lifting uncertainly. "Can—can I touch you?"

The blue regarded him critically, tilting his head this way and that as if seeing him from different angles, though Saora was so small compared to him that there couldn't have been much to see. It almost seemed as though he nodded. Wired with tension, Saora took a step forward.

Without warning, the blue's head shot forward. Sand flew through the air, blinding him as the dragon descended. He could smell the acrid reek of firestone on the dragon's breath. Saora only had time to clench his eyes shut, bracing himself for the end. A desperate thought rebounded off the inside of his skull.

_Dragons don't eat people!_

The sand settled. Death notably failed to occur. 

Dragon's breath washed over him like a hot breeze, sharp enough that his nose hurt. Sand tricked from his hair to dust his lashes with grit. Cautiously, Saora cracked one blue eye, blinking against the sting of the sand. 

A jeweled eye as large as his head stared at him unblinking at the end of a long muzzle, churning with silent laughter. He spit out sand, embarrassment and anger burning his cheeks. "Shaffit! What was that for?"

Green eyes faded to blue as the dragon snorted, then nudged him imperiously. His head settled in the sand at Saora's bare feet, placing an eyeridge conveniently close to his hand. The message didn't need to be any clearer. Carefully, almost afraid of another joke such as the first, Saora scratched the offered ridge. The blue sighed contentedly, two of his three eyelids closing. 

The hide was like his father's finest suede boots, but softer and warm from the tropical heat. Up close the shining blue was tinted faintly to green, almost iridescently mottled. Sand stuck to the delicate skin, so he brushed the folds of hide clean before scratching them and moving on, as directed by the languid motions of the dragon's head. 

He was so enraptured that he didn't notice his twin come up behind him, but he _did_ feel the swat Raoxas directed at the back of his head. He yelped, whipping around to see his nearly identical twin glaring at him with his hands on his hips. 

"What are you doing?" the lighter-haired boy demanded. His eyes never left the dragon, but they far from afraid. Raoxas was never afraid of anything. "Do you know how much trouble you could get into if you're caught?"

"The dragon doesn't mind," Saora scowled defensively. As if to back him up, the blue tilted his head under Saora's hand, offering another tender piece of hide for attention. "See? And if the dragon doesn't, the rider won't."

"Mother will. We'll be cleaning the watch wher's kennel for months if she catches us." His brother rocked from foot to foot, eyes darting between the hold doors and the indolent blue, his too-serious face pinched with longing. Curiosity rolled off of him like a wave. Saora didn't have to be his twin to know Raoxas was tempted. 

"He likes to be scratched," Saora offered, grinning as Raoxas shot him a dark look. But the blond stretched out a hand, tentatively touching the soft place just under the eye.

Raoxas' thin shoulders dropped in defeat. He smoothed his hand down the long stretch of muzzle. A smile twitched at his lips when the dragon rumbled contentedly. "If we—"

"We won't." 

They stayed by the dragon through the midday meal. Undoubtedly the rider had been invited to it, since he'd arrived so close. With any luck, no one would notice the missing twins, other than as a lack of trouble underfoot. Afterwards, everyone would stay inside through the worst of the day's heat—they'd have plenty of time to pretend they'd been elsewhere. The only concession they made to the sun overhead was to move into the shadow cast by the beast's bulk. The blue actually spread a wing over them, though it might have been just to soak up more sun. 

Saora and Raoxas were half-dozing in the shade of the wing when the return of the dragonman caught them unaware. He cleared his throat, smirking as they both scrambled to their feet in horror.

"We were just—"

"We didn't mean—"

"—he wanted to—"

"—never would have—"

Their fevered protests faded away as the rider chuckled. His eyes were a bright blue, almost the same shade as his dragon's hide, and even cut short his blonde hair spiked uncontrollably. His flight jacket draped over his bare shoulder, showing that whatever nastier sorts whispered about indolence, riders at least cared for themselves. There couldn't have been a spare inch of flesh on him. Saora's mouth went uncomfortably, and strangely, dry as he stared up at the foreboding figure.

Raoxas got over his shock faster than his brother. His hands locked behind his back as his chin lifted. "We were just keeping him company, sir."

The blue dragon huffed and lifted his head, curling his neck around the boys. His rider's eyebrows went up as he glanced at his dragon, then back at the twins. "So Zakth tells me—I think he likes you, actually." The set of thin white lines from threadscore that marred his shoulders flexed as he started to slip into his jacket. "He says thank you for the scratches, but we really must be going."

"It—I—we're happy to!" Saora's tongue tripped over itself in his rush to speak. His hand snagged Raoxas' wrist and pulled him away as the blue—Zakth—stretched and lumbered to his feet with a groan. Sand cascaded off him as his skin rippled, dislodging a fine mist of grit. "He's... amazing."

"Yeah." The rider smiled at them, eyes sharp. Zakth's head swung around to nudge his rider impatiently, offering a foreleg as a step. The blond man rolled his eyes. "And hungry. As always. Saora and Raoxas, right?"

To Saora's shame, he squeaked. Raoxas nodded so hard his head looked to fly off his shoulders. 

"Hm. I'm Cl'oud." Blond hair vanished as he jammed his helmet down on his head, fine glass goggles coming down to obscure his eyes. "I don't doubt we'll meet again." With the grace of a dancer he climbed up to his perch, not even using the straps. 

The boys scrambled away as Zakth crouched down, muscles bunching under his hide. With a magnificent surge of power, the dragon leapt for the sky. Sand flew everywhere from the downdraft, forcing the boys to shield their eyes. Overhead the great blue circled their little beach once, trumpeting a farewell. And then, between one breath and another, dragon and rider vanished.

* * *

The beyond-frozen void of _between_ stung Cl'oud's cheeks and made the muscles of his back ache spasmodically even through his heavy flight suit. He tried to concentrate on their destination, on the image of the four jagged peaks that marked Ista Weyr and the black glitter of the beach below it. 

Zakth was not helping. 

_Are you sure?_ Cl'oud demanded silently, hands tightening around straps he couldn't feel. _You haven't ever been on—how can you be sure?_

 _Have I ever been wrong?_ Zakth asked cheerfully as they burst out into the balmy air above the dead volcano of the Weyr. The weyrling green on watch bugled a greeting from her place on the Eastern-most peak. They glided through the open air space, spiraling to the ledge of their weyr on the outside of the bowl. Zakth dipped his wings playfully as a few weyrfolk waved. Below them the yearling crop of weyrlings bathed in the ocean, the red-brown of A'xel's Shakreth prominent among the largest splashes.

They'd be ready to start drilling soon, he knew, first long flights and then _between_. And even though he'd hung on as Weyrling Master for five full Turns, longer than any other, he still hated this time. He always would. It was when the ranks started to thin out. They weren't in a rush to fill the Wings, so he could take his time, minimize accidents as best he could, but all it would take would be one bad Fall...

 _Worry later. You haven't answered me,_ the blue complained as he touched down. 

"I'm busy counting," Cl'oud retorted, undoing the safety straps and sliding down the blue's shoulder to the stone floor. Zakth head turned to stare at him mournfully, eyes shading to a murky green of manufactured distress. It didn't fool Cl'oud for a heartbeat. "Don't look at me like that."

 _L'eon's Grieth would agree with me,_ Zakth insisted, mental voice almost a whine. _They were more afraid of you than me, the all the Candidates that've been Searched so far are afraid. That can't be good. What if someone gets hurt?_

Dragons didn't often argue with their riders, or think ahead. They were creatures of the moment—thoughts of the far past or future simply didn't occur to them often. Cl'oud stared at his dearest friend through narrowed eyes. Zakth radiated absolute certainty, with an edge of worry that was unusual for him. "What happened?"

Zakth's head drooped. _Nothing happened. I just—I don't like how the new boys act,_ he answered, mind voice almost a whisper. _They're afraid. I have a bad feeling about that._

Cl'oud sighed, patting his friend's shoulder. Hatchings were dangerous—anyone who had seen one knew that. And it was true that most of the injuries were from the disastrous mix of clumsy hatchlings and boys made slow by fear. "Do you really think two boys can make a difference? They might not even Impress."

 _They will._

There was no help for it. Zakth was determined, and he _did_ tend to call the colors well at Impression time... Even if the dragon had less sense than a wherry, it sometimes paid to listen. 

"Fine. If you can get Grieth on your side, I'll talk to L'eon and Rinoa. Where is L'eon, anyway? I didn't see Grieth on his ledge."

 _High Reaches flies Fall today. He's there to support the new Weyrleader—V'nis. You know they're friends._ Zakth's eyes tinted yellow with alarm as he regarded his rider. _Jealousy doesn't look good on you. You go all pasty and squinched up._

"If he wants to pass time with that rogue of a rider, it's all shards to me," Cl'oud snapped, blushing furiously. "Anyway, you talk to Grieth and I do the rest. Is it a deal?"

Zakth butted his head up against him happily. _Deal._

* * *

Cl'oud, Saora learned from his mother while she oversaw their punishment duty of clearing the rushes from the kitchen, had come to barter for a Gather tunic. One of his wingmates had been shown an example of the local work, and he thought to have a gift made for a friend. He'd requested a pretty enough thing, with gathered sleeves and embroidery on the neckline, in the black and orange of Ista Weyr. 

"Everyone knows what kind of 'friend' a blue rider would have," a grandfather cackled. He was hushed by the application of a damp cloth to his face, though Saora's mother laughed as she did it.

"The boys are too young for talk of that," was all she said. Raoxas and Saora exchanged glances over their brooms. 

Later they'd compared notes, curled up in their favorite nook on the roof of the hold. Thread wasn't due to fall for another few days, so it was safe enough to sleep outdoors, and more comfortable than the room they shared with their brothers and two other cousins. There wasn't much to compare, though. The rider would be coming back for his tunic and that would be that. Raoxas thought that they were lucky they'd gotten to see a dragon even once. Saora wished they lived somewhere like Ista Hold, which must see dragons _every day_.

They both agreed that they wanted to see Zakth again. And that a month of extra kitchen duty was entirely worth it.

A full sevenday later they'd been picking citrus fruits from the lush jungle behind the hold when the shouts went up from the beach. Picking the fruit was a two-person task, one to gather fruit and the other to catch it in the basket. It was the one chore the boys didn't resent being assigned, since no one ever tried to separate them for it. Together they could climb anything that had a toehold—it made them a favorite for any task more than a few feet off the ground.

Saora dangled by his knees from a branch as the cries carried to them through the humid summer air. The branches overhead were too thick to see through entirely, but he thought he saw a bit of blue cross the burning white-green of the cloudless sky. He twisted, knees slipping as he tried to follow the barely-glimpsed movement. 

Three red-orange fruits tumbled from Raoxas' basket as he craned his neck to see, as though he could see more than a few stones of the hold. "Do you think—?" Raoxas began, another fruit dropping. Their heads were at a level, allowing them to exchange an uneasy glance. Well, Saora glanced at Raoxas, but his brother didn't notice.

Saora shifted. "I can't—AAAH!" His minimal grip gave way. Air rushed around him for a brief second before the ground brought his tumble to a sudden halt. Breath rasped from aching lungs as he sprawled out on the ground. "Ow."

His twin didn't even look at him. "But his tunic isn't even done yet!"

"No, I'm perfectly fine, thanks for asking," Saora wheezed, pushing to his knees. The world threatened to spin, but he'd been lucky enough that he'd collected only a few new bruises and a scrape to join the yellowing ones from his last mishap. 

That _did_ bring Raoxas' gaze around to him. Sun-bleached gold hair shadowed his eyes, the same sapphire blue of his brother's. "You've got a skull of rock. A fall that short's not going to crack it."

"My own twin," Saora groaned. His chest ached, but he pulled himself to his feet without a wince. After a come-back like that, Raoxas would never let him live it down if he showed how much it hurt. "Wanna go check it out?"

"Do wherries flock together? I'll race you!" The huge basket of fruit tumbled to the ground as Raoxas took off at a run. Saora cursed and gave chase. He'd always been the faster one, but Raoxas' head start piled on top of Saora's still-short breath meant that he arrived at the front of the hold three strides behind his brother, just in time to see Cl'oud remove his helmet.

Zakth's head swung about restlessly, pausing over the children gathered at the edge of the sands. Uniformly the crowd edged back, staying well out of reach. Their father limped out from the hold's metal-bound doors, the only man not shipboard and fishing after the morning's rain. The twins glanced at each other before they ducked behind an out-building. Unspoken, they knew that if anyone saw them they'd never get a chance to visit Zakth. Not after the way they'd been chided last time. 

Cl'oud didn't bother removing his heavy jacket, though he must have been sweltering under it. Saora's heart sank. That meant he wasn't planning to stay for long. "At least he'll have to come back again," he whispered in Raoxas' ear. His brother grunted, waving him to silence. Zakth's head turned to stare at them sharply, the dragon's keen vision spotting them even over the distance. Saora leaned out far enough to wave. Raoxas yanked him back into hiding, only to throw a small wave at the dragon himself. Saora frowned, but the blond grinned unrepentantly.

Their father talked to the rider, his back unnaturally stiff even if nothing else about him suggested aggression. His voice rose, not enough to make sense over the distance, but his surprise was clear enough. Saora's hand found his brother's, gripping it in a palm that was half sweat and dirt from their work that day. Eventually Cl'oud waved in the boy's direction, turning to stare directly at their hiding place. Their father turned too, fingers running through his thinning hair. His voice rose to a familiar bellow.

"Saora! Raoxas! You might as well as well come out!"

"Should we?" Saora asked nervously.

"If we got kitchen duty for bothering Zakth, what kind of trouble will we catch for _not_ coming now?" Raoxas shot back. They shared a defeated look at each other, then slunk out from their hiding place. The other children poked at them as they pushed through the crowd, sneering. Their jeers made Saora's jaw set stubbornly, his grip on Raoxas' hand tightening as they crossed the invisible line between watchers and dragonman.

The blue dragon shifted from foot to foot behind Cl'oud, his folded wings rustling eagerly. In a repeat of the trick he'd pulled last time, his head darted forward. This time Saora was ready for it, but Raoxas' startled jump tugged them both off their feet. Sand scalded Saora's back as the dragon nuzzled them like an over-large kitten. He laughed, and Raoxas' voice joined in after only a breath. 

"He's not graceful in victory," Cl'oud remarked cryptically, eyeing his dragon with thinly-veiled amusement. The watchers fell silent as the boys proceeded to give Zakth the attention he wanted. Saora listened to the adults with only half an ear.

"You're certain?" their father asked as his two youngest crawled around in the sand, scratching the blue's headknob. "They're good boys, I won't deny, but they tend to pranks. Boyish high spirits, you know how it is, but I wouldn't swear age will take it out of them."

Cl'oud shrugged and jerked his thumb at them, where Raoxas was half-draped over his beast's neck to reach a particularly odd place. "The dragons make the call, and you can't deny that they have the taste for it."

"No. No I can't. Well, boys?" Their father's grey-blue eyes settled on them. Saora looked up, blinking in confusion. "You'd always be welcome back home if it doesn't come through. What do you think?"

The twins glance at each other over Zakth's neck. Cl'oud's smile stretched a little further. 

"Foreth's latest clutch is hardening on the Hatching grounds," he explained gently. "Zakth thinks you would make good rider Candidates. What do you say?"

The only sound in Saora's ears was the rush of the waves and his own heartbeat. Even Zakth's cheerful rumble died away. He looked over at his brother. Raoxas returned the stare. Information sizzled on the air between them in that way they'd always had. 

It would mean leaving home, maybe forever. They could visit, but dragomen were set apart. Even their own mother would treat them differently if they'd returned home. But...

They could be _dragonriders_ —help keep Pern safe from Thread. And didn't everyone want a dragon?

"But..." Saora started, gnawing at his lower lip. Raoxas nodded, understanding the half-finished sentence. Together they turned to the rider, their voices a chorus. 

"Both of us?"

"As Candidates," Cl'oud confirmed with a nod. "But I can't say as riders. No one knows how Hatching will play out. Zakth thinks you'll both Impress, or I wouldn't be here."

There was no doubt in Saora's mind that if one of them Impressed, the other would too. He could see Raoxas thinking the same thing. If they didn't, they could return home. There was no disgrace in failing to Impress. No one had even _been_ Searched from Destiny Hold in generations. 

This was a chance they couldn't pass up. 

"We'll do it."

* * *

Starting the day he settled into the Candidate barracks, Riku suspected that he'd made a mistake. From the initial flight _between_ to the constant lessons on dragon anatomy, dragon care, dragon feeding, and all the littler lessons that came with _that_ , oiling and butchering and sewing... And then the _normal_ chores. Chopping, sweeping, lifting... In the week since he'd arrived, he'd done more disgusting and back-breaking work than he'd ever imagined were possible. Of course, the other boys were doing the same tasks. The Weyrleader didn't believe in letting the boys stay idle while they waited, or that lessons on dragon care were wasted on boys who might not Impress at all.

He hadn't expected his status as a Lord Holder's son to earn him any favors, but he hadn't foreseen the poorly hidden amusement the weyrfolk directed at him, with his soft hands and lack of even the most basic skills. Boys a year younger than him didn't prick themselves bloody when sewing, or throw up when they were shown how to cleave through joints in one blow. The only thing he excelled at were the traditional lessons. He was years ahead of even the best of them. Unfortunately, that meant he was dismissed from those and given more work elsewhere. 

The only person who showed any kindness to him at all was Kairi, one of the girls of the lower caverns. She went out of her way to help him with the small tasks that he found so hard, though nothing kept her from laughing every time he turned green in the butchery. But she was always there with a skin of fresh water and a towel for afterwards.

"You get used to it, I promise," she explained, rubbing his back companionably after one such session. He'd plopped himself down on the stony ground, head between his knees. His hair had fallen out of his queue, thankfully hiding his face. He didn't think he could stand to see her holding back a giggle. "Just go watch the feeding grounds for a while. Pretty soon, nothing down here will bother you at all."

"Wasn't that the time I fainted?" he asked faintly. His stomach turned at the thought of _ever_ venturing back to the corrals that penned dragon dinners for their brief lives. He hadn't been the only one to react—everyone not weyrborn had at least spilled their guts, and more than one had joined him in unconsciousness. That didn't make it less ignominious. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this."

"The hatchlings will decide that." She sounded so certain that he lifted his head. Her smile held nothing of condescension. "I've seen it a hundred times—everything changes after Hatching. Trust me."

The rough-hewn stone ground bit into his backside, making him shift uncomfortably. He didn't know how to address her confidence without baring even more of his lacking of the same. "Why aren't you trying for the queen? Everyone says you'd be sure to Impress."

"Silly wherry," she giggled, offering him the damp cloth to wipe the sweat from his face. "I'm too young. If I Impress now, I'll only be fourteen or fifteen when she rises."

A blush rose in his cheeks. A green had already been flown in his short time there—he'd learned from others that greens were practically almost always in rut. If they weren't made infertile by firestone the Weyrs would be up to their necks in dragons in no time at all. He'd been too immature to really react to the sensations the flight had caused through the Weyr, but it had been embarrassing enough. In that, he'd been united with all the other boys in the barracks, at least. "Oh."

Kairi laughed again, her red hair falling around her heart-shaped face prettily. 

Behind them, someone coughed. "Excuse me?" hey turned.

Two boys roughly his own age, identical except for their hair, shifted nervously from foot to foot. They were both short, incredibly short, and as bronze as a dragon, with eyes so blue they nearly glowed. Their hair looked wind-tossed from a recent flight, but when the blond tugged a lock of it down it sprang back exactly as it had been. 

The darker-haired one smiled. Behind him his brother—they must have been brothers—repeated the gesture, baring more teeth than necessary. If the brunet's smile was like the sun rising, the blond's was the Red Star. "Um, are you Kairi? Cl'oud said you could help us..."

Kairi's violet eyes were bright as they locked on the brunet. Jealousy stirred in Riku's stomach as she climbed gracefully to her feet. Or maybe that was the nausea. "Are you Candidates?" 

"Yes." The blond kept a tight hold on his brother's wrist. "I'm Raoxas. He's Saora. We're supposed to ask you for help finding the Candidate barracks."

To her credit, Kairi at least looked down at Riku questioningly. "Do you still need me?"

Under her eyes he couldn't just sit there like a lump, even though his stomach was still roiling. "I'll go with you." He climbed to his feet awkwardly, ignoring the way the blond's eyes sized him up, like he might turn into a monster at any second. "I'm Riku."

Saora grinned, teeth whiter than white against the tan of his skin. He was so cheerful, it was a challenge not to smile back—a challenge made easier by his brother's glower. Even a body-length away, his good humor radiated from him like heat from an oven. "Nice to meet'cha." 

Raoxas grunted and looked away.

Confusion twisted Kairi's mouth into a frown as her eyes darted between the three boys. She seemed to decide that whatever was going on, she wanted no part of it. Instead she blew her hair from her eyes and turned. The thin cloth of her skirt swished around her ankles jauntily as she walked. "Well, it's this way. Come on."

Riku let the other two reach him before stepping out, falling in beside Saora. The other twin shot him a look worthy of crawler found in his boots. Riku ignored him with practice born from a sevenday of merciless teasing. He didn't know what he'd done to annoy the other boy, but that didn't mean it would get to him. 

Kairi's chatter echoed through the labyrinthine halls as she guided them, walking backwards at times to speak. "You're lucky you came so soon," she beamed. "There's time to get you on the books. Everyone's betting on the results, and late-comers throw things off. And Hatching's due soon—you'll have time to find your way around before the big day."

"No they won't," Riku cut in. He wasn't about to let two new-comers monopolize his only friend. "I've been here for a week and I'm still lost all the time. "

Raoxas snorted, glancing over at him through the fringe of his bangs. "Maybe that says more about _you_ than the Weyr."

The Lord Holder's son's jaw dropped in outrage. An angry retort formed on his lips, but he was beat to a reply by Saora whacking his brother's back. Raoxas growled and rubbed the reddening mark sullenly.

"Be nice." Saora glanced apologetically at Riku, eyes tilted downwards sadly. Every line of his body was regretful, as though it were nothing more than a signal flag for his emotions. "He's not normally like this. Really."

"So where do you two come from?" Kairi demanded too loudly. The clear light of the glowbasket washed her face out enough that it was almost possible to miss her exasperation. Saora's relief was a palpable thing as he started babbling about their home hold, which sounded like every other small island hold Riku had ever heard of. His enthusiasm was contagious, as Raoxas soon joined in the discussion. Riku found himself chiming in about favorite games. Anything to keep from starting the sniping again.

By the time they reached the Barracks, even Raoxas was hard-pressed not to smile. Saora had a way of telling simple stories so that they sounded like the most outrageous of stunts. His brother's animosity was a pale thing next to his cheer. Kairi seemed taken with him too, seemingly hanging on every word. It bothered Riku, but surely she'd lose interest in the other boy eventually. Anyway, Saora seemed friendly enough, and it would be nice to have someone besides a girl to talk to.

The Barracks were a long, thin room with rope beds lined up on both walls. A huge set of drawers and cabinets set toward the back, taking up the better part of the wall, leaving just enough space for a second door. Their guide led them straight to the cabinets, throwing open doors to show them everything. 

"You should wash up. You too, Riku—you're a mess." Kairi opened the drawer where clothing and bathing supplies were stored. A pile of white cloth—towels?—were tucked away in the back corner, almost seeming set aside. She ignored them. "Bathing room's shared with the whole lower cavern, Riku can show you where. Didn't they at least let you get clean before snatching you out of hold and home?"

Saora turned a dull red under his tan. "Um, not exactly. Cl'oud wanted to—"

"—hurry, and Zakth tried to follow us into the water when we wanted to rinse off," Raoxas finished with a grin, tossing Saora a jar of sweetsand from the drawer. "Cl'oud wasn't happy. He's like a puppy, isn't he?"

"That blue tries everyone's patience," Kairi confirmed with a long-suffering roll of her eyes, flipping the sheets down on two of the remaining beds as she headed for the main door. "He's been bugging the Weyrleader about _something_ for days now, even crying outside his ledge at all hours. I think L'eon wants to skin him for boots." She paused by the door shyly. "I'd better go help with dinner."

Lashes thicker than any girl's fluttered as Saora grinned boyishly, completely ignorant of the way Kairi's cheeks turned pink. "Thanks for the help."

The only two other boys exchanged a look behind his back. For once, Raoxas' didn't seem to have any hostility to spare for Riku, only a thin layer of exasperation for his clueless sib. Together they grabbed the other boy by the biceps and tugged him toward the back door of the room. 

"Stop flirting already," Raoxas chided, bouncing his brother's rear off the floor. "We need to get clean here."

"Shaddup Raoxas! Bye Kairi!" Saora waved as best he could while his arms were restrained. 

Laugher tinkled off the rough roof of the cavern, though she covered her mouth with her hand. The other lifted to return the wave. "Bye! I'll see you at dinner!"

* * *

Cl'oud propped his boots up on a stool in a far corner of the main hall, letting the shadows of his chosen nook hide him from view. He hadn't taken time to do more than strip off his tunic since returning to the Weyr. It was sweltering hot above, and while the lower caverns never lost the damp coolness of a cave, sweat was still sticking his wherhide pants to him in the most awkward of places. He didn't much mind that his stew was cooling in its bowl, though his stomach growled with hunger. It was too hot by far for a normal meal. The head woman seemed to agree, and had included fresh greens and light bread for those who couldn't stomach anything heavier. The only reason he'd even taken a bowl was because Zakth had hunted the wherries for it. He couldn't bring himself to turn it away entirely after the heart-broken look Aeris had given him when he reached for the greens.

The large cavern that served as a combined dining and social room bustled with industry. Children darted underfoot, playing obscure games until whoever minded them called them to heel. Weyrlings of all ages were _everywhere_ , here chatting over cards in one corner and there taking up a whole central table with some sort of craft that involved as much swearing as actual work. He knew there were only forty-odd of them, but it seemed like more. Maybe because older riders tended to take their meals to their room the night before a Fall, then gather later and make merry through the night. There'd be two hundred aching heads the next morning, begging Aeris for that brew she kept that tasted like used firestone but at least got rid of the pain. 

For some, that headache might be their last. It was the single most solid factor of life in the Weyr, what set even the drudges apart. Any day a person you'd known since your dragon cracked his shell might set out to battle Thread and never return.

He tried not to think about it. They all did.

A squawk like an offended watch wher preceded its owner into the cavern. "I wasn’t flirting!" Saora stumbled in, his brown spikes of hair still dripping from a bath. His brother pushed after him, with an unfamiliar white-haired boy a few steps behind them both. The two were laughing at Saora's indignant expression.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell _her_ that," the unknown boy sniggered, giving the smaller boys a solid shove. "C'mon loverboy. Food."

And the _Candidates_. He was almost looking forward to when they became weyrlings. At least then he could order them to shut up once in a while. Not that he disliked them all. Only most of them. Saora and Raoxas were bearable, but it would take a harder heart than his to dislike anyone his dragon was so thoroughly enamored of. But the sooner they became teenagers, the happier he'd be.

A small chair cracked down beside him. Cl'oud looked up to see L'eon swing a leg over the chair and cross his arms on the back. He was dressed in clothes for lounging, only a pair of loose brown pants held up by a drawstring and a tunic. Simple though the selection was, it flattered his trim form. Cl'oud yanked his eyes back to the commotion before him, only letting himself steal glances at the other man.

The Weyrleader dipped a chunk of bread in his stew idly, gray eyes staring into the bustle of the cavern. The smooth line of his brow wrinkled slightly, though that was the only sign of his mood. "Do you always sleep with your eyes open? Or has that blue finally driven you to insanity?" He lifted the bread and took a bite. 

Cl'oud flushed and stared down at his food, separating the different elements carefully. Root vegetables to the left, stewed greens to the right... "I didn't tell him to take over your ledge like that. He just... took initiative."

L'eon chuckled, his boots scraping the floor as he shifted in his seat. "I wouldn't have minded if he hadn't been _singing_. I think his egg was cracked too early, but he's the best on Pern for training young dragons. Can't argue that."

On the great stone in their weyr, Cl'oud felt his dragon's pique like a huffed sigh in the back of his mind. _I was doing it for the Weyr. Aren't you going to defend my honor?_ Zakth demanded.

 _No._ Cl'oud's eyes refocused to see his Weyrleader grinning at him. "He says he was doing it 'for the Weyr'," he explained wryly, lifting the bowl up to sip. It was still warmer than he liked, but he didn't have the patience to wait for it to cool entirely. Even the small taste made the pinch of his stomach relax a little. 

"He's positive it wasn't because he took a liking to those two?" He flicked his spoon at the large table the Candidates were at. The twins were the latest wonder, surrounded on all sides by boys eager to find out why they'd been brought in so late and who had Searched them out. Saora seemed cheerfully oblivious to the excitement, but his brother glowered quietly. They were sitting close enough that they may as well have used a single chair.

Stone scraped wood as Cl'oud shifted in his seat, the slightly-off legs of his chair wobbling with the movement. "Maybe. I'm surprised he pushed for so long. I thought for sure he'd forget about it with a fully belly and a nap."

"Hm." L'eon's leg pressed his. It was innocent enough, but Cl'oud's heart leapt to his throat. The way L'eon's grey eyes locked on him through the shaggy fall of his dark hair said he knew exactly what he'd done. "I think I'm glad. The Lord Holder's boy seems much more at ease. That's an accomplishment of its own."

"They're likable boys." Cl'oud used his spoon to mask his expression as he lifted another bite. Heat that had nothing to do with the summer weather seared through his pants where their legs met. _Are you sure you're not a green?_ he demanded of his dragon silently while his jaws worked a particularly tender bite.

 _You like him._ Zakth snorted. _And you haven't visited him since Grieth flew Foreth. I'm not the one keeping you in your own bed here._

A piece of root vegetable lodged in Cl'oud's throat. He choked, coughing as he fought to swallow it down. L'eon pounded his back until the piece finally gave way, leaving his lungs aching. 

How dare that overgrown tunnelsnake talk to me about my sex life? he thought as privately as possible. His eyes watered as he massaged his abused throat. "Fall over Big Island tomorrow," the blond rasped. L'eon's hand lingered on his back, skin to skin, before he finally sat back down.

"You know," the Weyrleader began slowly, picking his bowl up from the floor and lifting it his lips for a long sip. "You know, Foreth's so broody over this clutch that Rinoa's been practically sleeping on the Hatching Ground. And Grieth gets lonely in the weyr without someone to lean against."

"Hatching's soon." Cl'oud turned his head eyes away, not sure he could resist the suggestion he knew was on Leon's face. "Only a few more days at worst. Then they'll be back."

Wood clattered against pottery. A chair scraped. He could imagine the other man standing, the muscles of his arms softened by the light from the glowbaskets. He didn't look. "Yes, they will." L'eon sighed, so forlornly it made Cl'oud's heart ache. "I don't want to keep doing this—endless round dance with you. Fall's tomorrow. My weyr's open. Make of it what you will." His hand briefly touched down on the blue rider's shoulder, squeezing.

And then he was gone.

* * *

Saora shoved another spoonful of the stew in his mouth, chewing noisily as he leaned over the long table. Raoxas leaned with him, much more quiet but equally interested. One of the other Candidates, Wyakka, used the salt cellar and pepper pot to pin down the hide he'd stretched across the surface. It had a line drawn down the middle, with circles on either side and under that a careful sketch of a strange ball. Someone had written instructions for the game in a cramped hand. The other boys who shared their table jostled for a view, one almost spilling Saora's stew down the front of his tunic.

They were all six hold- or craft-born, brought in within the last two sevendays. Kairi made seven. Nothing tied them together beyond that for the most part. They were outsiders in the Weyr, and to each other. But where the boys waiting for the Hatching had been there long enough to bond, each of them were at odd ends, new enough that they didn't fit in and knowing that they might not be there long enough to learn.

It was, Saora thought, the _best_ kind of strangers.

"So everyone stands like this, ya?" the redheaded boy said, pointing out the different positions. "And this guy puts the ball in play. I'm _tellin'_ ya, we just need a ball."

On the other side of the table, the Lord Holder's son was curiously uncrowded, but interested. His spoon hovered over his bowl as he stared down at the Record. He'd pulled his icy hair back into a short tail, but wisps escaped to frame his face. "I've seen people play that on Gather days, I think. It seemed fun, but there were a lot of injuries."

"Just bruises. Maybe a bone," Teyidus argued, his shock of sun-bleached gold hair standing out in the glowlight like a beacon. He and Wyakka had come from the same minor hold, making him almost as much an expert on the disputed game as the burly redhead. "It takes a really hard game to do _real_ damage."

"Which is why you can't play it," Kairi pointed out primly from just down the table. Saora looked up at her with his spoon still in his mouth. The single girl of the group shook her head and stood, picking up her plate of greens. "Honestly, risking a broken bone days before a Hatching? L'eon would have your hides, and if he didn't Rinoa would.

" _I_ am going to go sit with the girls," she announced, nose in the air. Saora wouldn't have bet a chipped mark that she was serious—the smile she threw at him was anything but angry. "They seem much more reasonable—at the very least quieter—and Penelo offered to teach me to dance. I'll see you boys in the morning."

She swished away to the table that held the older, female, Candidates. All eyes at the boys' turned to Saora. His ears burned red under their stares. "What?"

"You're the one she likes," Teyidus accused. "You go apologize for us."

Saora's shoulders squared defensively. " _What_? I didn't do anything!"

Riku smirked. "You flirted with her."

"No I didn't—she's a _girl_! Yuck!"

Teyidis snickered and nudged his ribs gleefully. "So you like boys then?"

At his twin's side, Raoxas went oddly still. Saora's head turned to him as soon as he felt his brother's distance. The blonde's eyes were locked on a distance corner of the cavern, one almost hidden by shadow. "Guys? What's wrong with Cl'oud?"

Collectively, they turned to follow his gaze, attention yanked from Saora for a blessed moment. 

The blue rider seemed absorbed in the craggy surface of the wall. Beside him, a dark-haired man shook his head and stood, his hand falling to Cl'oud's shoulder before he left. It didn't seem to affect Cl'oud at all, but neither did he look away from the wall.

"Oh, that." Vhaan, grinned and propped his boots on the table, locking his fingers behind his head. He was the oldest boy there, a full fifteen Turns, though short for it. He'd been a trader, nearly holdless, and it showed in his easy drawl which could have come from almost anywhere on Pern. 

"You don't know the news there?" he laughed. "Penelo said that _Aeris_ said that Rinoa said he and the Weyrleader were practically weyrmates before Grieth flew Foreth. But Cl'oud's been damn near celibate since."

"Ain't that the way it's supposed t' be?" Wyakka slid his treasure into a slim tube he carried especially for it. "Weyrleader and Weyrwoman, ya?"

"Guess not..." Saora frowned thoughtfully. He liked the blue rider, even though the man could be scary. Zakth was nice though, and he'd been the one to find them. He caught his twin's eyes, eyebrows raised expectantly as he looked from Raoxas to Cl'oud and back again. Cl'oud deserved to be happy.

Blue eyes widened as Raoxas' mouth formed an "oh" of understanding. He shook his head sharply, brow furrowed. It wasn't their place.

In reply, Saora caught his lower lip between his teeth, willing tears to his eyes. Didn't they _owe_ the man, for bringing them to the Weyr?

Raoxas glared. No. They didn't—they owed his dragon. That was a completely different matter than owing the rider.

Across the table, entirely obvious to the silent communication happening between the brothers, Riku ticked off points on his fingers. After touching his index finger he blinked, and then counted again. "Four degrees of separation. _Four_. And you _accept_ that? That's not news. It's gossip."

Vhaan snorted, eyes sliding away from him idly. "Well, you'd know about gossip, wouldn't you, holder boy? Bleed yet today?"

Plates rattled as Riku smacked his palm onto the table top. His lip curled into a snarl. "You—"

"Hey!" Saora kicked the older boy's feet off the table before Riku could do more than stand. "Don't be a deadglow, Vhaan. We should be figuring out how to help Cl'oud."

"Don't bother." Wyakka started rolling up his precious Record, taking care not to even let the delicate hide close to the food. He'd brought it out only after much begging, and had sworn that if anything happened to it the person responsible would face a fate worse than Thread. "They're riders—they'll figure it out on their own, ya? We'd only get in the way."

"But..." Saora's started to fill as his lower lip trembled threateningly. 

Raoxas brother promptly slapped a hand over it. "Don't start that. We’ve got more important things to worry about." When everyone stared at him blankly he rolled his eyes. "The Hatching. How are we going to Impress? Isn't that what we're here for?"

"This is stupid." Vhaan's feet dropped to the floor with a dull _thud_. "Everyone knows you can't change Impression. I'm going to bed. Anyone coming with me?"

Wyakka cracked his neck. "Yeah—I'm beat."

"Sorry, guys." Teyidis shot them a grin and shoveled in the last of his dinner before standing. "I've got breakfast duty tomorrow."

They left, leaving the twins and Riku at the table. The rest of the cavern was slowly starting to empty, though it'd be hours before it was completely quiet. Saora considered the hand over his mouth thoughtfully. He didn't want to lick the palm; Raoxas would just wipe it on him. Biting would earn him a smack.

"Why aren't you going too?" Raoxas stared at Riku with an amazing level of venom.

The older boy just shrugged. "Not tired. Besides, you have to have noticed they don't like me."

A lock of blond hair flopped back out of Raoxas' eyes as he blew at it in annoyance. "Maybe if you gave up the 'poor highborn me' act, you'd be bearable."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't like you, either."

"But there's only one of you." Riku grinned and brushed some of his pale out back from his face. "Besides, we're in this together, aren't we? As Candidates, I mean." 

Raoxas tightened his grip on his brother head, until Saora's teeth nearly mashed against his lips. Saora couldn't help but feel that he'd missed something. "I'm in this with Saora, but fine. What do you know about Impression?"

"The dragons do the choosing." When Raoxas shot him a dirty look, Riku only shrugged and sat back in his chair. "Ask anyone here. They'll give you some tripe about not over-feeding and not being scared, but other than that they'll just say that the dragon chooses. Besides, there's no time to do anything once it starts."

"There's gotta be a way to up our chances," Raoxas insisted. Saora rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling, mumbling loudly but not attempting to remove Raoxas' hand.

"Look," the Lord Holder's son sighed. "If there were a trick to it, they'd just Search out exactly how many they need. No extra. It doesn't make sense to have forty of us to eighteen eggs otherwise."

"Maybe it's to see who's smart enough to figure it out!"

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

A loud knock rattled the table. The other two looked at Saora, whose knuckles were poised to repeat the noise. He glared with all his might, blue eyes almost fierce. 

His brother rolled his eyes and lifted his hand a fingerlength, but kept it poised to slam back over his mouth. "Okay, but if you start going on about Cl'oud, I'm gagging you."

Saora batted his eyelashes cheekily. "Yeah, yeah, and you'll hang me out for wherry bait and then use my guts for fish bait. I know you love me."

"Just tell us already," Riku cut in. 

The brunet grinned at the remaining boys. He and Raoxas were smaller, maybe even the youngest of all the Candidates, but when he grinned Riku leaned away warily. "You guys are looking at this all wrong. If there's no time to do anything when it _starts_ , then what about now?"

His twin's eyes narrowed. "You had better not mean what I think you mean."

If anything, Saora's grin became even more wicked. "Who, me?"

* * *

For the fifth time in less than an hour, Riku barked his shin against something. He swore, gripping his new bruise in the dark and trying to rub the pain away. Raoxas was ahead of them, carrying a half-lidded glow basket to light their way through the tunnels. It cast just enough light that Riku could see everything he'd kicked, stepped on and cracked his skull against—after he'd already done it, of course. "This is the _worst_ plan I've ever heard."

Saora threw an arm around Riku's shoulders companionably. "But you're doing it." The tunnels they were traveling were thick with dust, and so deep under the Weyr that they were chill. Everyone knew about them. They were the old route between the Weyr and the Hatching Grounds, before the other entrance had been carved. It had seen rockfalls since its abandonment, making some places so low they'd had to crawl. Saora didn't seem to mind the crawlers webs, scraped knees or bone-aching cold, but Riku was starting to think that Saora didn't really mind _anything_. The boy was just that cheerful. 

"I can't really let the queen eat you alone, can I?" Riku smirked as Raoxas' growl carried back to him. Whatever he'd done to make the boy an enemy, at least he was amusing. It was worth Raoxas ire to spend time with Saora, who was the only boy he'd met in the Weyr that didn't think that he was basically useless. Saora liked _everyone_ , and for once Riku was enjoying not being an exception. "Besides, maybe you've got a point. It can't hurt if we just _look_ , right?" 

"That's what I said," the brown-haired boy preened. In the dim light, he was an oddly shaped figure done in shades of darkness, all spikes at the top and skinny limbs that seemed to fade into the rock.

"I know," Riku grinned, giving his throbbing shin a last rub. It didn't seem to have taken worse than a bruise, so he straightened, wary of the sometimes low roof. "I was there."

Light swung back to shine on them through the cracked lid of the glowbasket. "Will you two be quiet?" Raoxas hissed. "She'll hear us!"

"She probably already has," Saora reminded his brother, snagging the basket and jogging ahead. "But we're just looking. And then we'll go."

"I still don't see how that will help us Impress," Riku muttered, but followed. Saora's eagerness was like a trawler's net. It caught everything around it up and dragged them along behind, no matter what they thought of it.

As was becoming the norm, Raoxas sneered at him. Riku imagined there might have been a hint of grudging approval, barely an upward curve of his lips, but it was probably a trick of the light. Raoxas hadn't shown any sort of liking for him before; why would that change? "Saora gets these ideas," the blond explained lowly. Ahead of them the light bounced as Saora tried to jump and touch one of the higher parts of the ceiling. "They're insane and don't seem like they should work. But they do. Never like they're supposed to, but they work. Sometimes we even get away with them."

"And you go along with them?" Riku was vaguely aware of the irony of asking that as he himself was in the process of going along with just such a scheme. 

"He's my brother. What's your excuse, Holder boy?"

Riku blinked at that, raising an eyebrow. Was that supposed to be an insult? "It would be like—like... I don't know. Mean, maybe." He shrugged, ducking around a spar of rock that had almost caught him by surprise. "He's just so happy. I didn't want to say no. And he doesn't dislike me."

In the echoing passage, it didn't take much straining to hear Raoxas snort. "With your attitude, I'm not surprised."

Just when he thought they'd started to have a civil conversation, Raoxas would say something like that. And Riku thought people called _him_ prickly. "You never did explain yourself back at dinner."

"It's easy, dimglow." The other boy was just a darker shadow against other shadows, but Riku saw him kick at a rock. "You _whine_. Poor me, why me, can't cook, can't clean, can't gut a fish. Ever think about _why_ the rest of us can do all that?" 

A sick, slimy feeling wormed its way into Riku's gut, but he was saved from coming up with an answer by an ecstatic shout.

"Hey guys!" Saora's voice rang off the ceiling, cutting Raoxas off before he could reply. The darker-haired boy bounced at the center of a bend in the tunnel. "I think we're there!"

The two trailing boys shared exasperated looks before running to catch up with the light-bearer. When they reached him, Riku saw the light shining through the hole in the wall. It looked like it had been a normal entry once, but a rockfall had blocked almost all of it. What was left wasn't even big enough for a thin man to squeeze through, but would pose no problem at all for a small boy. 

Once he realized how near they were, Riku noticed that he'd stopped shivering. They _must_ have at least been close—he'd been warned that the Hatching Grounds were heated. In the brighter light, he could see the restrained eagerness in his companions. It made them look even more identical than usual. For all Raoxas' protests, he was just as excited as his brother. 

Somehow, that made Riku feel better. If Raoxas, who was as broody as a watch wher, was so eager, Riku's own childish anticipation felt more forgivable. He couldn't see much of anything but sand through the crack, but just over the rise was the pale curve of an egg. Even the mighty golden bulk of Foreth was hidden, though he doubted she'd gone anywhere so late at night. Not with her eggs about to hatch. 

"The Grounds must be huge," he breathed in awe, leaning over Saora's shoulder for a better view. The boy's klah-bark brown spikes of hair tickled his chin. "What now?"

"We sneak in and look for clues," Saora whispered. "We don't touch anything, and if Foreth is upset we run."

A very adult, very _feminine_ laugh made them all jump. "I don't think that's a worry." 

Brown hair dropped into view first, then an upside down face. She wasn't striking—even at a mere thirteen Turns Riku had seen lovelier women. This one was only cute, in a wide-eyed sort of way. But her smile gave her a luminescent sort of beauty that he couldn't help but notice, even when she was upside down.

Saora grinned nervously, grabbing Riku and Raoxas' tunics and tugging them away from the opening. "Um. Hi? We were just going. Really. See? Going." 

"Don't be silly." She flipped and dropped to the sands. The only thing heavy about her clothing were her boots, which looked to have a good inch of leather sole. The rest of her clothing was just a breast binding and a pair of indecently short trousers. She'd bound her hair up into a tail on top of her head, but loose strands clung to her face and neck, which were flushed. Even in so little, she was sweating from the heat. A thick Thread score trailed between her breasts and down her stomach, white and cruel against her tanned skin. "I thought you came to see the eggs?"

Raoxas squawked nervously. "How did you know—?"

"Foreth heard you coming." She chuckled at their guilty expressions. "Don't worry about it. There's one in every batch of Candidates. I'm Rinoa, by the way. You're Zakth's boys? And Lord Ista's youngest?"

Riku's hand curled around Saora's forearm to stop him from pulling them further. They'd been spotted and identified. Running wouldn't help at this point. "Yeah... You're the—Weyrwoman?" 

It was a stupid question, but she didn't seem at all put out about it. "Mmhm. Are you coming or not?" She turned back to the Grounds, her tail of hair bouncing merrily as she performed a strange sort of high-stepping walk. "I talked Foreth into allowing you to see, but she's not happy about it. Better take advantage while you can."

The twins looked at each other. Riku could almost feel the information passing silently between them. 

Finally, Raoxas shrugged. "Why not? We've come this far."

Saora cheered and dived for the opening, slithering through like an eel. Raoxas was hot on his heels, leaving Riku to bring up the rear. As soon as his sandal-clad feet hit the sands, he understood the Weyrwoman's strange walk. They were practically _sizzling_. He felt like his shoes would bake onto his feet, leaving a thick coating of numbweed the only answer. 

And they were to stand _barefoot_ on it come Hatching?

Ahead, the other boys were in no better condition. Saora was hopping from foot to foot with more fervor than just excitement could account for, and Raoxas was practically skipping. It didn't help that the sands were loose under them, and every other step slipped and buried their feet to the toes. Riku hopped on one foot, trying to shake the little grains of sand from his sandal as he topped the first rise.

As soon as he saw it, Riku forgot the pain in his feet.

He'd been right. The Hatching Grounds were _huge_. Bigger than the Great Hall of Ista Hold—bigger than the _harbor_ of Ista Hold. There must have been room for every dragon and person in the Weyr. The roof was so high that it vanished into shadow, even though glowbaskets lined the walls every few feet, filling the place with their clear white light. 

In the middle of the seemingly endless stretch of sand was the golden bulk of Foreth, the queen. She was gigantic; her head alone bigger than her rider. But the vast space of the Grounds made her look tiny in comparison. The queen egg, which must have been bigger than Riku, shined a molten gold where it rested protectively between her front legs. She hovered over it, eyes flashing yellow alarm. Her forked tongue snaked over the shell agitatedly, her hiss like sand pouring through the biggest hourglass in the world. Beyond her were the smaller pastel curves of the other eggs, mottled in every dragon color: palest blues and greens, soft browns and shining bronze...

Saora and Raoxas were having the same problem as him, standing stock still as they took in the stretch of the cavern. Riku caught up to them, limping as his scorched feet started an aching reminder of their presence. Even Saora's excited chatter had died away into awe. 

"By the first shell," Raoxas breathed. "I didn't—"

"—think it would be so _big_ ," Saora finished, one hand reaching out to grab his brother's wrist. The other snagged Riku's tunic. Together, the three of them hot-footed their way down the rise. 

Rinoa had set up a strange sort of hammock contraption at Foreth's shoulder, which she sat in as she talked soothingly to the agitated dragon. She smiled at them, one hand rubbing her queen's hide.

"Just don't go near the queen," she explained quietly. Even so, her voice echoed in the immense space. "I've talked her into letting you touch the others, but the queen egg is always a sensitive matter. And it's a small clutch this time. She's extra nervous."

"We won't hurt them, will we?" Saora's eyes were locked longingly on the eggs. Riku echoed the sentiment silently. They looked so delicate, like the blown glass he used to see being made at Gathers. He couldn't imagine standing on the sands and watching an egg he touched fail to hatch, because he'd damaged to somehow. 

"They're harder than they look, and hatching is any day now," the Weyrwoman reassured them. "Go on. You can't hurt them."

Riku slipped the rest of the way down the rise, the twins with him. His feet were slowly going numb from the constant burn of the sands. Warily, the three boys dodged around the threatening head of the queen, staying as far out of reach as they could. Rinoa laughed at them, leaning her head against her dragon.

"Just go on."

Up close, the eggs were smoother than Riku would have thought, almost glistening in the glowlight. It looked like someone had wiped them with oil. The twins split off from him, kneeling at either side of an egg only slightly smaller than that queen, which made it easily the largest egg of the rest of the clutch. Riku left them to it, passing from egg to egg, inspecting them as though he could see the dragon growing inside. Which would be a blue, and which bronze? He'd been in the barracks long enough to know that every boy there wanted a bronze, even though there were only ever a few. They weren't like greens, which were _everywhere_.

He wanted a bronze too, but he wasn't tactless enough to say so, and only a small part of him expected to actually Impress one, if he Impressed at all. There wasn't anything wrong with wanting the biggest dragon, and only bronze riders ever became Weyrleaders. A brown might have been able to try, but they never did. And blues didn't have a hope of catching a queen, not even in her maiden flight. He paused next to a trio of smallish eggs that had somehow clustered together. Upright, the largest only came up to his chin. 

"You," he decided, squatting down to eye the mid-sized from its own level. It felt like the fine porcelain made in Igen, warm and only slightly rough where sand clung to it. Closer up, he could see the faint hints of blue in the brown-green shell. It was pretty, in a soft sort of way. "You're a bronze. And the other two are blues."

A voice in his ear asked, "Do you really think so?"

Riku jumped, scorching his hands and backside on the sand as he fell backwards. Saora leaned over him, nose wrinkled with laughter.

"Don't do that!" he growled, pushing himself off the sand before it could become more than just hot against his skin. Sand clung to him everywhere that had touched down, a gritty mess that stuck to his sweat in the most uncomfortable places. He tried to brush it off. "What do you want?"

The brunet just grinned, petting the egg gently, as if it were a dog. "Nothing. I just thought we should get going before Foreth gets more upset. Do you really think it's a bronze?"

"Do you think that giant you two were ogling is a bronze?" he shot back, giving up on the grit on his skin. White hair plastered itself to his forehead and neck, making the heat even closer to unbearable. He'd have to bathe again before bed.

At least the bathing room wouldn't be crowded.

"A green," Saora grinned, grabbing his elbow to pull him towards the main entry. He released it before Riku could shove him off. "That makes sense, right? Biggest egg, smallest dragon."

The absolute sincerity in Saora's blue eyes almost made Riku laugh. He masked it by waving at Rinoa, who waved back. "That's the weirdest thing I've heard. And anyway, blues are smaller. It's a bronze."

"Wanna bet?" The younger boy raised his eyebrows challengingly, offering a hand to shake. Sand had somehow gotten sprinkled across his nose like bizarre, white freckles. "Shards to marks, it's a green."

They both knew neither had anything to bet, but Riku's hackles were up for a challenge—especially from him. Saora was a little weird, but he and his brother were the only ones who took Riku seriously. Of course, Raoxas hated him for some reason and they hadn't seen him trying to chop vegetables yet, which might have had something to do with it. Did he really want to be friends with someone he might never see again after Hatching?

Any friend, Riku decided, for even a week is better than no friends at all.

"Deal." He accepted the hand, giving it a firm shake. It felt strangely like a beginning.

* * *

Cl'oud leaned against Zakth's shoulder on the ledge of their weyr, staring up at the twin moons that provided enough light that only the brightest stars were showing. It shined silver off the treetops and glittered on the waves that splashed up the distant beach. They weren't the only pair enjoying the night outside, but they seemed to be the only ones alone while doing it. He could hear the echoes of a party from the weyr above him, and a green was curled up with a blue just to the right. 

His dragon had twisted his long neck around to rest his head over Cl'oud's out-stretched legs. He was practically crooning, but the sound that vibrated in his throat was so low Cl'oud could only feel it against his skin. _You're being stupid,_ Zakth murmured in his mind, glowing eyes tinged yellow with concern. _We can go. Right now if you want._

"I know what I'm doing." He rubbed Zakth's headknob, smiling at his dragon's contented rumble. "You know, it should probably worry me that my other half is so pushy."

 _I wouldn't be if you weren't so happy to torture yourself._ The spaded end of Zakth's tail twitched. _Everyone else is having fun tonight._

"I'm not everyone else."

 _Obviously._ The first lid slid over Zakth's eye as his wings stretched out until they nearly hung off the ledge. He shifted into a boneless sprawl, eyes lidding as the yellow faded from their depths. _Grieth says L'eon's still awake._

The night was perfect, with only a trace remaining of the heat of the day. His partner's bulk made up for the missing heat, but a cool breeze off the ocean kept Cl'oud from sweating too much. "Grieth can mind his own business."

A boot scuffed the stone behind him. "Did my dragon tattle on me?"

Cl'oud lifted his eyes to meet the grey ones of his Weyrleader. He was outlined by the weyr entrance, the light behind him making his features lost to shadow. But Cl'oud would know L'eon anywhere. No one else had that indomitable set to his shoulders, and few in the Weyr wore their hair long. He was still dressed as he had been for dinner, barefoot and comfortable. His heart gave a little twist at seeing the man. Even out of riding gear he radiated his authority. It was something Cl'oud had always admired about him. "Something like that. Just that you're awake—not that you'd be paying a visit."

L'eon smiled faintly and leaned against the outer wall of the weyr, lifting his eyes to the moons. "I apologize if I'm disturbing you. I thought we should talk more."

"You're always welcome here." The words were out of Cl'oud's mouth before he could stop to think about them. They were as automatic as breathing, and as honest. Zakth snickered in his head. 

"Thank you. You're welcome in mine as well, you know." The clear light of the moons made his hair look black, outlined his face in stark tones that made him look stronger, more determined. "It's actually what I'm here about."

"You know why I didn't come up." Cl'oud bent his head, focusing all his attention on the dragon head stretched across his lap. They'd had this same conversation before; he didn't want to have it again. Zakth crooned reassuringly at his rider's distress, wings rustling. "It's been three years. Enough."

"It's because it's been three years that we need to talk." L'eon's voice, always soft, nearly vanished into the sounds of drunken singing from above. "I can't keep doing this, Cl'oud." 

"You're the one who keeps pushing. You know how I feel."

He could feel the Weyrleader's eyes on him, almost like a physical touch. If he looked up, he'd see those eyes staring at him. They were always so serious, as though something in his past had sucked the humor right out of him. There'd only been a few times that he'd seen L'eon smile, fewer when he laughed. Lately they'd come less and less. 

Or maybe they'd been given to someone else. 

"Yes, I do. And I'm tired of trying to explain mine." A cheer came from above as the song ended, apparently to the satisfaction of all. The sound faded away, as though the revelers were dispersing, leaving the night quiet. "I never told you why I didn't ask you when Foreth rose the first time. And then she became Weyrwoman and I became Weyrleader and you pulled away. I should have told you right away, but you seemed like you didn't care and... And I was young. Stupid. I'm sorry."

Finding out Grieth had flown Foreth had been one of the worst moments of Cl'oud's life, even over Zakth's first threadscore. Zakth's eyes were yellow again, shading towards orange. Quickly Cl'oud changed his thoughts, remembering the justifications he'd given himself back then, letting them ease the ache. Serious pairings were rare in the Weyr for exactly this sort of reason. "That was twelve turns ago. I was at Fort. It would have been ridiculous."

"We could have done it," L'eon insisted. "But... Cl'oud, she was a virgin."

The blond's head snapped up. The other man's eyes had closed, though his face was still lifted to the sky. "...What's that supposed to mean?"

L'eon let out a shaky breath. It seemed too loud, the only sound the mattered, though the sounds of merriment still carried from all around. His voice was nearly unemotional as he spoke. "She was a virgin. And scared. You know how it is when they rise... She wanted her first time to be with a friend, so I let Grieth fly her and didn't call you. And then you didn't complain or—or say anything, really, even when you changed Weyrs. So it became normal. And then V'red caught that clump and went _between_ and Sarran retired..."

"And you became Weyrleader," Cl'oud finished for him. He remembered staying in an empty weyr for more than a week, until Aeris had slipped him fellis in his wine and he'd woken up in his own bed. Alone. 

"Yeah." L'eon caught his gaze, holding it. "And you stayed in our weyr when I moved."

After a long moment, Cl'oud was the one to look away. "I didn't want to cause problems. Everyone was saying you were too young, and the other Weyrwomen were trying to pull rank on Rinoa... You didn't need any more complications. Especially not in the way of a weyr-hopping blue rider."

"You didn't want to break us up." One of L'eon's hands came up to cut off Cl'oud's protests. "Don't argue. Zakth told Grieth that you don't want to cause problems for Rinoa and I. Don't try to hide it."

 _Zakth!_ Cl'oud glared at his dragon, who didn't even have the dignity to look guilty, though his croon went up a notch.

 _I'm supposed to take care of you,_ the blue answered. _When you won't even take care of you, it only makes my job harder. I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of mating._ His tail-tip curled around to lightly tap his rider's ankle. _Dragons are more sensible about these things._

"You accused Grieth of tattling?" Cl'oud finally asked, wincing when his voice refused to rise above a whisper. "Does he tell you when I have a nightmare too? Or skip a meal?" Zakth sent him an image of a chain of whispering dragons leading up to Aeris, who was writing a list of transgressions in bright red ink. It was so ridiculous he almost laughed. _Stop that! This is serious._

_You're too serious sometimes._

L'eon completely missed the aside between man and dragon. "He worries about you, and he's friends with Grieth. Of course they talk. If you asked, Zakth could probably tell you the same things about me." 

The blue rider mulled this over. L'eon was probably right, but he wasn't about to admit it. The man still hadn't said anything that addressed Cl'oud's main concerns. "What about you and Rinoa?"

"What about us?" He sounded so honestly puzzled that Cl'oud's lips twitched, almost smiling.

"I thought you weren't even interested in women." 

"I'm not." When Cl'oud glared at him, L'eon glared right back. "Not really. They're... okay, I guess. But I'm more interested in men. In _you_ , in case you've missed the point of this whole conversation."

"And Rinoa?"

"Friends. Good friends, but she understands." L'eon pushed away from the wall, stalking towards the blue rider and his dragon. He stepped over the curve of Zakth's tail and squatted down at Cl'oud's feet. "Do you want me to step down? I will, if that's what it takes."

"No!" Zakth's head lifted up, eyes flaring red in response to Cl'oud's alarm. "You're a good Weyrleader—one of the best. You shouldn't—"

"Then what do you _want_ from me?" Even with his face hidden by shadows, Cl'oud could feel L'eon's eyes on him. He wanted to hide his face from it, knowing that the moonlight showed every expression as it passed his face. "We used to be friends. Weyrmates. Now I'm lucky to see you at all when there's no threadfall. There's plenty of other riders who would be decent Weyrleaders. But there's only one of you." 

Cl'oud couldn't believe what he was hearing. Even Zakth was shocked, eyes growing red in the night. "You'd... You'd really declare Foreth's next flight open if I asked. _Why?_ "

"Because this is distracting me, and I can't afford to be distracted." 

"But—"

"I've been arguing with you about this long enough," L'eon cut him off, standing. "I'm just a rider—almost any other Wingleader could do my job. Tell me what I have to do to get you back, I'll do it. Have you stand by me next time Foreth rises, retire... Anything but let you go."

A strange weight wrapped around Cl'oud's chest, strangling his breath as he stared up at the man who used to be his lover. "You're a good Weyrleader. You shouldn't—not for me..."

"I can't without you." It might have been a trick of the gloom, but it seemed as if L'eon was smiling. Then he turned, and there was only his back to see as he headed for the entrance. "I'll go tonight. Just think about it."

"I—I will."

Then he was alone with Zakth, who settled his head back across his rider's lap, eyes slowly fading back though the shades of alarm. _You love him._ It was a simple observation, whispered in the very back of his head, as though Zakth didn't dare say it louder. 

Cl'oud rested his forehead against the dragon's cheek. "You think he'd really do it?"

_He's stubborn._

"That's not an answer."

 _I know._

And that was all there was to say.

* * *

Threadfall preparations started early the next day, even before the sun had risen. Saora groaned to deaf ears as he was rousted out of his comfortable bed to help secure the metal shutters and pull medical supplies from the storage caverns. Aeris had a treat for all the boys who helped, sweet rolls to go with their morning klah, but it wasn't a substitute for extra sleep as far as Saora cared. Raoxas, the morning-loving one, was almost cheerful as he helped haul things. In contrast, Saora was barely able to speak coherently until the sun was well up. 

Fall had just started when they were finally able to relax. The dragons had flown, leaving only the old, young and injured left in the Weyr. The massive halls were strangely empty, the eating cavern almost deserted. It bugged Saora almost as much as the knowledge that Thread was falling outside. Of course the dragons were searing it—almost nothing ever got though. But just imagining someone caught out in a Fall, being eaten alive, made him shiver. Once when he'd been younger, and dumber, he'd risked cracking a shutter and seen a wherry hit with a clump that the dragons had missed. He hadn't been able to eat for the rest of the day.

Saora made sure to punch Raoxas shoulder as they split up to get their food, to show his opinion of his twin's disloyalty. Then he went even farther and found a quiet table to sit at, apart from the others. There were plenty to pick from.

The other boys were almost as bad as Raoxas. Riku even whistled as he climbed up to close the highest shutters, and Vhaan didn't have any problems helping the herders move their charges into the stone shelters. Saora huddled in the kitchen afterwards, glaring doom at his fellow Candidates over his mug. Even his _brother_ was chatting perkily, with Teyidus of all people.

Traitor. Maybe it was sleep loss. Raoxas was _never_ perky.

An extra sweet roll dropped onto his plate, next to his half-finished one. "Eat up. I know a growing boy when I see one." Aeris sat in the chair next to him, cradling her klah. He'd only met her the night before, but she seemed like a nice enough woman, if a bit quieter than the rest of the women in the Weyr. She had some of the longest hair he'd ever seen, pulled back into a thick braid that reached her knees. "Thank you for helping with everything. You were up late."

He flushed, swirling his klah and watching the steam rise. "Not that late..." 

"Late enough." She smiled at him and tore a piece off her own roll. It was an oddly welcoming look, when most of the other people in the Weyr seemed more serious than any reasonable occasion could account for. "Did you burn your feet on the sands?"

Saora shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't sure he liked the way she smiled anymore. "Are we going to get in trouble?"

"I don't see why. Rinoa didn't mind, and you didn't hurt anything. Boys are supposed to be curious. Besides, it's tradition that all the eggs will hatch healthy if one of the Candidates sneaks in. You wouldn't want to risk something like that, would you?" She dipped her roll in her mug before popping it in her mouth and chewing. 

He sipped his drink, letting the warm spice of it slide down his throat. It didn't do much to wake him up, but at least it was tasty. Maybe it worked better on adults. "Then why aren't we allowed to see them?"

"It doesn't work like that." Her nose wrinkled as she giggled at him. One green eye flashed closed in a wink. "You have to _sneak_ in, silly boy. Otherwise it's no good."

It was only a small smile, but she had an infectious laugh. Even the early-morning hour couldn't battle it. "I guess that makes sense..."

"Of course it does."

Across the cavern, Raoxas shoved at Teyidus playfully, messing up his hair. Not that anyone could tell—Teyidus' hair was almost as bad as the twins'. Riku sat at the far end of the table, lost in his own thoughts. Saora could only guess was a normal thing for him, since no one else seemed put out by the display of unfriendliness. 

"Is he always like that?" The question popped out, without encountering the filter of common sense in time. By the time Saora caught up with himself, it was too late. "Sorry. That's probably rude..."

"You mean Riku?" Aeris glanced at the pale-haired boy. A little frown of worry tugged her lips into a pout as she finished the last of her roll. "I'm afraid so. He just doesn't make friends easily. It's a shame too—he could if he tried a little. But I suppose he just doesn't want to."

"Huh." Saora chewed his lip. Riku seemed nice enough to him, when he wasn't being touchier than a watch wher. "Do you think—"

"Hey, you own blondie over there?" A lanky redhead dropped down across the table from him. His plate had been so loaded with food that it was almost overflowing. It had everything from a small bowl of left-over stew to a large hunk of bread. Most oddly, an unbaked pie had been set carefully on the edge of the plate—it looked like blueberry from the color of the juices that leaked out of the edges.

Saora wrinkled his nose. Unbaked pie. Ew.

Aeris smiled wanly, eying the prodigious amount of breakfast. "I see you found tonight's dessert. And broke the cabinet lock, I assume. Couldn't you wait?"

"Better fresh." As if in example, the redhead picked up a raw carrot and took a large bite. 

The head woman sighed. "I'll leave you to it then—I have to go see about that lock." She patted Saora's arm softly just before she stood up. "Don't worry about Riku. He'll be fine, as long as he has a few friends." 

As Aeris bustled away, the redhead grinned at the younger boy. "So, you own blondie or not? Everyone says you're brothers."

"I don't _own_ him. He's my twin." Saora tore at his sweet roll, eyeing his visitor. He was maybe sixteen, and dressed in an odd assortment of flying gear and normal clothing. Other than the goggles on his head and a wherhide jacket, he only had on a pair of loose trousers. He was even barefoot. And his hair was a mess—Saora wondered if it would even fit under a helmet. "Who are you, anyways?"

"I'm A'xel, rider of brown Shakreth. Weyrling." A'xel jerked thumb tinted purple by blueberry juice over his shoulder. "And I think your brother's about to bite someone. Might want to see about that."

"What?" Saora looked back over at the Candidate table. Sure enough, Raoxas and Riku were in a heated debate and—yes, Raoxas was baring his teeth. He dropped his mug back to the table as he slipped off the bench, barely noticing when it splashed all over. "I've gotta go." 

A'xel leaned back on the bench, yelling after him, "You gonna finish your roll?"

Saora darted over to the other table, grabbing his brother by the collar and yanking him back forcefully. Raoxas whipped around, eyes narrowed in a glare. The brunet glared back. "What are you two _doing_? Trying to get in trouble?"

"Back off!" Raoxas lip curled in a snarl. "This isn't your problem!"

Riku settled back in his seat, crossing his arms. "I didn't do anything. We were talking and he just started in on me and—"

"Didn't _do_ anything? You started it!" The blond whirled again, almost catching his brother in the stomach with an elbow. "With that stupid 'my father the Lord Holder' pile of—"

"He's my father, I can talk about him if I—"

"You don’t have to—"

**THUD.**

Both boys went silent, staring at Saora's fist where it had been planted on the table. 

Saora gritted his teeth against the urge to throttle them both. A quiet growl hissed out of him as he glared first as Riku, then at his brother. He didn't get irritated often. That was Raoxas' domain—Saora had never liked being angry. But Raoxas had been needling Riku since they'd met, and Riku had been returning it snipe for snipe.

It was going to stop, one way or the other. With any luck, neither way would need violence. " _Quiet._ Both of you. Now."

"But we were already—" Raoxas shut up again as Saora's eyes narrowed. Wisely, Riku just pressed his lips tighter together. 

"Good." Saora took a slow breath, letting himself relax. "I don't know what your problems are, but it's ending here. We're all going to be friends, even if I have to ask Zakth to drop you both in the ocean. And he'll do it too, I bet. Understand?" 

Raoxas crossed his arms belligerently and looked away, but nodded sulkily. Riku repeated the move.

"At least it's a start," Saora sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Just don't do it again, okay?"

Almost like an answer, a hum started somewhere deep in the Weyr. It was soft, but so deep that he felt it more in the soles of his feet than heard it. Everyone in the cavern paused as Saora looked around for the source of the noise. A'xel had frozen with his unbaked pie between his teeth, and more than one person had paled under their tans.

The tableau broke when Aeris rushed into the cavern in a flurry of skirts and floured-dusted apron. "You!" She pointed at the Candidates' table. "Baths, then back to the barracks!" When no one moved she threw up her hands. "Do it! The eggs are hatching!"

* * *

It was the fastest bath Riku had ever had, bar none. They weren't even allowed to scrub themselves. Each of the forty-odd Candidates were ducked under water by a drudge, scoured with a brush and then dragged out and into a towel almost immediately after. He lost track of anyone else he recognized in the crush, but he thought he glimpsed Teyidus at the far side of the bathing room and no one missed Wyakka's indignant shout when he was tripped into the pool. All the while, the humming was a steady beat in his bones, so low that he couldn't really say he could hear it at all, but it was always there. The sound was encouraging in a way, making his feet fly faster as he raced down the hall to the barracks with three other boys. 

Aeris and some drudges were waiting for them in the barracks, all of the cabinets thrown wide open. Without any modesty at all, they grabbed Riku's shoulder and ripped the towel from him. A heartbeat later she pulled a white robe from a pile of others just like it. Everything went dark as she threw it over his head, yanking so hard that he almost got caught in the armhole. 

When the robe was finally on straight, Aeris took Riku by the shoulders and leaned to meet his eyes. Hers were bright with anxiety, cheeks flushed with the excitement that seemed to have infected the whole Weyr. "Remember," she said, emphasizing the word with a shake. "Don't be scared. Whatever else you feel— Don't. Be. Scared."

Riku nodded shakily. No one else was getting that speech. He could see them being shuffled into their robes and out the door, all of them looking like they'd rather be anywhere else. Why was _he_ being treated differently? 

She accepted his nod with one of her own. "Next. If a dragonet falls, _move_. Don't be an accident. And stuff him as full as he can stand—he'll be hungry. Do you understand?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Saora and Raoxas had been pulled aside by an old man in Harper blue. Was it because they were new? 

"Riku!" Another sharp shake brought his attention back to Aeris. "Riku, this is important. Do you understand?" He nodded again, nervousness finally starting to burrow through his stomach, like a tunnelsnake through rock. He couldn't believe it was really happening.

Aeris smiled at him in relief and squeezed his shoulders before turning him around and giving him a shove towards the door. "Wait for the twins. Don't go out there alone. It's supposed to help."

The twins didn't look any better off than he was. They were both so pale, it made the subtle differences in their tans vanish. If it hadn't been for their hair, he never would have been able to tell them apart. Saora was clinging to his brother, but Raoxas' grip on him looked just as tight, so maybe it was mutual. Riku propped himself by the door, waiting anxiously as the Harper gave them what sounded like the same lecture Aeris had given _him_. 

_—stuff him as full as he can stand—_

Did Aeris think he'd Impress? Did anyone? They'd made that trip to the hatching grounds, but Riku didn't think they'd learned anything from it. They'd just looked at the eggs and burned their feet. Saora seemed to think they'd done something, but now he wasn't so sure. What if the dragonets were insulted and chose other people? 

What if he didn't Impress? He'd have to go back to the Hold, since there was nothing he could do in the Weyr. A week ago, that wouldn't have been so bad, but now the possibility of being sent home felt strange. It was like a tunic that had just started to not fit anymore. He missed his father and brothers, but... 

He should have asked Rinoa. She said other boys had done it. Had they Impressed, or had they been sent home?

One of the other boys paused by the doorway, hovering anxiously as he looked at Riku. Dark hair stuck up in short-cropped spikes around his head, still damp from the scrubbing they'd all gotten. "Aren't you coming?" 

"I'm supposed to wait for someone. Two someones." Riku jerked a thumb at the twins, who were getting a much longer lecture than he had. Likely because they'd only arrived yesterday, and Raoxas looked like he was arguing with the harper. 

"Oh." The boy looked down the hall, where another group of four were making the wet dash to the barracks, then back at Riku. His eyes were wide with apprehension, the slate-blue ringed all the way around by white, but he looked like he was at least trying to smile. "Do you mind if I wait with you? Hephan and Alecan already went. I don't want to go alone." 

Riku tried to remember if this had been one of the boys who had teased him, but he didn't think so. His face was familiar, but it had been just another one in the crowd of forty. "Yeah. I'm Riku. Ista Hold."

The smile was quick and easy now, though his eyes still gave away his nerves. "Athony. Smithcraft Hall." He looked like he could feel it too, the weird press of excitement and terror that seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. 

"Eat ash, you old coot!" Raoxas suddenly snarled, so loudly it bounced off the rough-hewn ceiling of the room. Everyone in the room paused simultaneously. The Harper looked flabbergasted the blond dragged his twin away. For his part, Saora didn't even try to resist. His normally cheerful expression was closed up, pinched in a way that looked unnatural on him. When they got closer, Riku saw that his grip on Raoxas' wrist was so tight his knuckles had turned white. Saora snagged Riku's robe as he was pulled by, tugging him along. 

Athony hurried after them. "What did he say?" The look Raoxas turned on him at the question was just short of venomous. To Riku's surprise, the craftholder just lifted his chin and jogged to get even with them. "He said _something_. You might as well tell us."

Saora stumbled as his foot caught an uneven part of the floor. "He was talking about if only one of us Impresses." 

That had been something Riku never thought of. "He has a poi—"

"No." Both twins looked at him with matching expressions of denial. Riku hadn't realized how creepy they could be when they did things like that. "We go together."

"Or we don't go," Raoxas added in an absolutist sort of tone. 

They turned a corner to see the other boys gathered together by the entrance to the hatching ground, hovering in small groups. The queen candidates were off to the side, none of the girls talking to each other at all. Vhaan seemed to be chatting up a tiny blonde girl under the disapproving eyes of one of the lower cavern women, but Riku was pretty sure that was his friend Penelo. She was the only girl smiling, even if she did look a little green. 

As soon as the others came into view, Raoxas slowed and Saora took over their direction, dragging his twin over to Teyidus and the others. Riku hung back, not wanting to deal with the inevitable jibes he would get. Everything was about to be decided one way or the other, so it wouldn't matter if he stayed by himself. 

Athony watched the twins go off, then looked at Riku thoughtfully. "You know, I see my friends over there. You want to wait with us?" He jerked his chin at a group of boys. A dark-skinned boy waved from the middle of them, obviously trying to get Athony to join them.

Riku took a slow breath, glancing over at where Saora was practically clinging to Raoxas. "...yeah, I think I will."

* * *

Cl'oud leaned close to Zakth's neck as the blue hovered in his place at the back of the fighting formation. He tried not to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of the Weyrleader's formation. No distractions. Not on a Thread day.

On the horizon, he could see the pale shimmer of the old enemy, but it was still over the water. There was no reason to risk their hides when it would drown itself. Zakth's second stomach rumbled as it worked through the firestone he'd swallowed before. They were close enough to the ground to see the crews below, where their maneuverability could do the most good. He was sweltering in his riding leathers. Higher up, he'd want the protection from the winds when they grew icy. Not now, though. 

L'eon was strange in the way he'd staggered the flight and fight levels, but the wind currents coming off the ocean made fighting Thread in Ista different from anywhere else. The man might think he could be replaced, but Cl'oud knew otherwise.

 _Do you mind?_ Zakth snapped. _I can't concentrate with you worrying so loudly. And Keiloth says the fall is straight today. No tangles, so we'd better not screw up or he'll be the one who has to deal with the newest weyrlings. And Grieth says that if you get injured before you talk with L'eon, he'll tell A'xel to leave wherry droppings in your bed._

 _Keiloth's not the only one grumpy today,_ Cl'oud tried to tease, but it fell flat. He could already see the threads stretching down like some sort of evil rain. Just another minute or two...

 _Something's going to happen today._ Zakth's voice was quiet in Cl'oud head. He had a feeling of someone wrapping their arms around him in an embrace, but it wasn't for _his_ comfort. _I have a bad feeling._

A few of Cl'oud's blond hairs had caught in his goggles. He tugged them free, keeping his eyes on the enemy as it approached. Zakth had gut feelings sometimes, but he was wrong just as much as he was right and there was never any way to tell which it would be. Dragons didn't have good enough memories to learn from things like that, so all Cl'oud could do was handle things as they came, until the big blue forgot about it or whatever it was happened. 

He tightened his grip on the fighting straps. _We'll get through Fall, then deal with it. Firestone ready?_

 _Ready._ The muscles between Cl'oud's legs surged as his dragon rose with the wing. Then the Thread had arrived, and there was no time for anything like conversation. 

Threadfall always had a pattern—clumps or tangles, straight as rain over the Keroon Plains or sleeting almost sideways whenever there was a strong wind. Every rider and dragon learned how to read it and fly it, but sometimes the learning curve was too steep. This Fall didn't have any weyrlings, but in just half a year he'd be leading a wing in their first fight, and he hoped for a day like this. Straight and easy, no wind, with only one or two clumps to muck things up. Weyrlings survived Falls like these.

Zakth squealed and flicked _between_ as a Thread caught his back. The endless blackness of it swallowed them both, but the icy cold felt good after the sticky heat of the summer sun. Relief coated the back of his mind as the Thread crumbled and fell off, vanishing into the void. _Are you okay?_

 _Just a score,_ Zakth reported tersely. If it weren't for the dragon's reassuring voice, Cl'oud would have thought himself lost. He couldn't even feel the straps around his hands, though he knew they were biting lines into his gloves. _I need more firestone._

The shining waters of Big Island harbor returned in a blink as Zakth came out of it right where he'd left. Cl'oud fished a medium sized chunk of firestone out of the bag by his knee and tossed it forward. Smooth as a thought, Zakth turned his head and snapped it up. 

Time seemed to vanish as they fought, though Cl'oud knew very well that it would seem like it had flown with them later. The world blended into smears of color interspersed with _between_ as they wheeled, Zakth's flame catching the Threads and sizzling them to ash. So Cl'oud didn't know how long they'd actually been fighting with a bass bellow of agony tore open the air overhead. Mercifully, it cut off as the dragon winked _between_.

 _One... Two... Three..._ Ice froze Cl'oud's guts when the dragon didn't come back. _Who?_

 _It's L'eon._ Ice turned to shards and spikes. The usually bubbly mindvoice was slow, tense as Zakth divided his attention between the Fall and his rider. But it wasn't wrought with grief, and none of the dragons were wailing. _Grieth is taking him back to the Weyr. He's unconscious, but alive._

Cl'oud had never been so grateful for the straps holding him on. Pern spun below him, graying out alarmingly. Zakth's presence kept him rooted enough to toss forward another chunk of firestone when needed, but his concentration had been shredded. 

L'eon had never needed to leave mid-Fall. All of them had been injured before, but L'eon was known for flying through it, and sometimes for days after. The Masterhealer had him on a blacklist because he ignored his wounds so often. He was to be given a full checkup after every Fall, or whatever healer was attending was stripped back to journeyman. That he'd passed out...

 _How long have you been flying?_ It couldn't have been long. Their firestone sack was only low, not quite ready to be replaced. Usually they went through four in a Fall.

 _Not long. Stop thinking about it,_ Zakth advised, rising to char a patch of Thread. _L'eon will be fine. Grieth won't let him go. I'll ask when we get more stone._

 _We're low enough to go now._ Guilt squirmed through him, but it was true. And he'd fight better if he was sure L'eon was safe. All the dragons would know if Grieth suicided, but there was a lot of territory between alive and dead. Cl'oud had covered most of it himself, once or twice. 

Zakth threw his head back to catch a stray thread. _I've told the Wingleaders we're returning for firestone. D'rel says not to come back unless we're not going to fly straight into a tangle._

Normally it wouldn't have worried Cl'oud, but he knew the bronze rider had a point. He locked the image of Ista's peaks in his mind, remembering the crags of the bowl and how everything would be shuttered for Fall. _Tell him we won't. Take us home, Zakth._

The blue skipped _between_ in the time it took to think the order. Cl'oud tightened his grip on the fighting straps he couldn't feel and pretended it was only sweat freezing on in droplets on his cheeks. Zakth didn't say anything for the time they were in that void, but he stayed at the forefront of Cl'oud's thoughts, a solid presence like a shoulder to lean on. 

When they burst into the balmy air over Ista Bowl, Zakth hovered uncertainly. The usual weyrlings were waiting with sacks of firestone, but the rest of the crowd was sparse. Usually there would be a flock of children to help slather wounds with numbweed, and drudges with food and drink ready. Only the absolutely essential personnel were there. 

Zakth let out a startled croon, stretching his wings to circle down to a rough landing. Deep, resonate humming started in his chest, so loud Cl'oud could feel it between his knees. _The eggs are hatching!_

_L'eon?_ He slid down Zakth's shoulder, paying only slight attention to the straps. Practice had made them unnecessary. _How is he?_

Tense silence hovered between them as Zakth turned his attention to one of the young bronzes waiting with sacks of firestone nearby. _He sleeps. Aeris gave him fellis for the pain._

Relief was a short-lived thing. A weyrling raced forward as Cl'oud's feet touched the stone floor of the bowl. His blond hair flopped into his eyes, not yet sheared short for a helmet. He had a pot of salve in his hands that Zakth eyed longingly. "Weyrling Master," he panted, short of breath after his dash but still trying to rush out his message. "The Weyrwoman says to go to the hatching grounds right away. We'll care for Zakth." 

_Zakth—_

_I'll be fine. Go take care of the hatchlings._ The great blue turned his head to nudge Cl'oud towards the hatching grounds. _I'll go see Grieth afterwards, and make sure L'eon is okay._

The boy was already climbing up Zakth's back with the pot of numbweed to slather his scores. Cl'oud took one last glance up at the now-distant line of Threadfall, then towards the Weyrleader's ledge before hurrying across the bowl. He knew his duties, and right now they were to the dragons being born, no matter that his heart wished otherwise.

* * *

Eggs rocked back and forth, some of them overturning and others barely twitching at all. The sands were just as hot as Saora remembered, scalding the soles of his feet. Next to him, Raoxas had adopted a sort of hopping sway that kept him from touching ground for too long, but Saora resolutely kept himself planted. It wasn't hot enough to actually _burn_ , after all. Eventually his feet would just stop hurting. They had the last time he was there. His brother's grip on his hand hurt too, but that was a good sort of pain, and he was probably doing the same thing anyway.

They were in the middle of a group of boys they didn't really know, other than Vhaan and Wyakka. Rinoa had forced them to spread out, mostly, but they all had stayed as huddled as she'd let them. Teyidus had stayed towards the back while they'd been shoved forward, and everything had happened so fast that somehow Saora and Raoxas had found themselves closest to the eggs. His heart was pounding, nerves rattling, and his mouth felt as dry as the all the deserts of Igen. It felt like when they'd ridden Zakth, like he might fall and fall and never stop. 

Foreth snaked her head over the queen egg, hissing balefully. The girls gathered around it in a loose circle, but none of them looked happy to be there. Even Vhaan's friend Penelo had gone pasty, and one of them had fainted just after they'd been hustled onto the sands. One of the other boys—Ahzi-something?—had helped carry her off. Saora kind of thought that was stupid, but when the queen had turned her flashing red eyes on him, he'd felt a bit light headed too. 

"Are you scared?" Raoxas asked suddenly as the egg nearest them showed a crack. A talon scraped through it, widening the fissure. The watchers gasped as a chunk of shell fell off. A blue nose poked through, nostrils flaring as the hatchling rested.

"Dragons don't hurt people." He couldn't take his eyes off the egg in front of them, so he squeezed his brother's hand instead. Could a person's heart pound straight out of their chest?

"Not that. The other thing." 

Saora swallowed, keeping his eyes on the biggest egg, the one they thought had a green. It was barely twitching at all, except for a few energetic jerks now and then. He wasn't used to being the brave one. He always just _did_ things, and then Raoxas kept pushing when he got scared but was too deep to stop, and they came out the other side together. The harper had said that dragons changed everything, that people who you thought mattered before always took second place, but he couldn't imagine anything being more important than his brother. 

"I'm not afraid." 

He could tell by the way the hand in his twitched that Raoxas knew he was lying, but someone needed to say it. "Me either."

Before Saora could answer, every dragon in the cavern, even Foreth, craned their neck skyward. A bass scream cut through the air, so loudly that Saora's head rang with it, a thick buzz rattling his skull. He fell to his knees, clutching his head as everything blurred from the sound of sheer _pain_. Sand burned his bare knees, but the world wouldn't stop spinning long enough for him to get up. Raoxas was beside him, shoulder to shoulder, but he was clutching his head too. Boys crowded around them as weyrfolk scrambled out of the cavern, yelling and only making it worse. Raoxas shoved someone away and together they forced their knees to work, leaning on each other for support.

Then the egg burst open. The little blue dragonet tumbled out of it, landing face-first in the sand with an indignant squawk. Everyone around them vanished as the other boys scattered, leaving the twins to hold each other up. 

Egg shards flew as the blue righted himself and shook, dislodging the crumbles of shell that had stuck to his damp hide. His eyes swirled violently red with anger as he stalked back and forth, oversized wings trailing through the sand behind him. None of the boys made a move, leaving the hatchling to circle the collected Candidates, crying anxiously. A claw swiped out at one boy, scoring him across his ribs. He twisted backwards, knocking over three other boys and Riku as red stains spread over his robe. The hatchling didn't follow; he just snorted and stalked away. Weyrfolk rushed forward to pull the stricken boy away, but he shook them off and stood up on his own, even though his chest was a gory mess of blood and cloth.

When he passed Saora and Raoxas, the blue paused, twisting his head quixotically, like a visual question mark. He was almost as big as Saora, and colored so darkly that the egg-damp of his hide made him look black. The buzzing in Saora's head had started to fade, but it went away even more, until he didn't need to lean on Raoxas anymore. The blue crooned quietly, violent swirls of red in his eyes easing into softer yellows. Saora distinctly felt like he was being asked something, but he didn't know the question. 

Taking a guess, he shook his head. "Sorry. Not me." The blue heaved a sigh and turned to Raoxas, who shook his head. With another huff, the dragonet moved on. 

While the blue had held Saora's attention, other dragons had hatched and were doing the same circle, two greens and a bronze. Across the cavern, one of the greens lifted her head, eyes turning to a glowing blue as she rushed forward, tripping over herself as she fell at one of the Candidate's feet. The boy knelt down, untangling her. Even from so far away, Saora could see the tears roll down his cheeks, and he thought he might start crying too.

"Her name's Aemneth!" 

More eggs hatched, and Saora lost track of the colors, except that there seemed to be a lot more of the blues and greens than anything else. Everyone held their breath when the great gold egg shattered into three pieces, leaving the little queen sprawled in the middle of the mess. She didn't waste any time righting herself and making for the gathered girls. Two of them tried to catch her attention by stepping in her path, but she knocked them down and practically barreled Vhaan's friend over in her enthusiasm. Every dragon in the cavern crooned in approval as Penelo hugged the queen to her.

An elbow dug into his ribs. "Saora!" Raoxas hissed, jabbing him again. "The big one!" 

Saora turned away from the girls. The big egg— _their_ egg, as he hadn't been able to keep himself from calling it in his head—was rocking again. It had cracked in a dozen places, but it still held together for the most part. Finally it gave one great burst of effort and the whole top half slid off in one giant chunk. A bronze dragon spilled out in a wailing heap, tangled with the green that had been trapped in the shell with him. 

One of the boys behind then gasped audibly. "Two? Can they _do_ that?"

A sort of inevitability settled in Saora's chest like a rock. He stumbled forward, meaning to drag Raoxas with him, but his brother was right there with him, just like he always was. The two dragonets were still having trouble untangling themselves, with wings and tails still wrapped around each other from where they'd been working to break the shell. No one else pushed forward to help. Almost in a daze, Saora thought that it was because it was _obvious_. 

The first thing that struck him was how small they both were. The bronze was bigger, but both hatchlings were easily half the size of their clutch-mates. They started to sort limbs out without bothering to worry about which was which. A claw caught Saora under his eye, scoring a deep line in his cheek. He caught the bronze's claw before it could scratch him again and held it straight while Raoxas unwrapped the green's wing from around it. 

A delicate bronze head swiveled around to look at him and Saora found himself falling into a pair of glowing blue eyes. 

_My name is Ardenth!_ a voice located somewhere between his ears announced. _You are S'ora and I am Ardenth and—Ummm. Can you please move my tail? I think it's trapped._

 _I am Draxenth and of_ course _your tail is trapped,_ a feminine voice snapped. S'ora almost fell over in surprise. _It's under me, and you are on my leg!_ The green stared up at R'oxas pleadingly. _Make him move? Please?_

The twins looked at each other, eyes wide. For the first time, where was absolutely no need to translate his brother's expression, because S'ora was thinking the exact same thing.

They would figure it out later.

"It's okay. We've got you." S'ora lifted the offending leg while R'oxas all but picked up Draxenth's rump. The two dragonets scrambled apart and shook, sending crumbles of shell and sand everywhere. 

_Do you mind?_ Draxenth asked, giving her wings a delicate little tremble. _I'm trying to get this off of me._

 _Get clean if you want,_ the bronze replied, giving himself one last good shiver before butting S'ora in his stomach, which twisted in phantom pangs. _I'm hungry._

Egg shards crunched behind them. Cl'oud was still soot-covered from flying Fall, but he was smiling. "A twin egg. I should have known that was coming." Cl'oud put one hand one either of their shoulders and gave them a push towards the cavern exit. "Go feed them. I'll see you after."

The dragonets stumbled along with them, weaving a bit as they tried out their new legs. S'ora kept an arm around Ardenth's shoulders to keep him upright, and saw R'oxas doing the same with Draxenth.

* * *

Riku watched the twins lead their dragons off and tried not to feel jealous. They'd told him what Cl'oud had said, and Kairi had backed it up, which made it obvious that the dragon had known something beforehand. But there were only a handful of dragons left—a brown, two blues and a green, and all of the eggs had hatched. Even as he watched, the brown planted itself in the sand, creeling imperiously. Athony stumbled forward, his chest still bloody where the blue had clawed him.

"He's named Rinnamoth!"

He was going to fail and get sent back to the Hold. For the first time in his life, Riku had wanted to do something— to be _part_ of something, and not just the youngest child of the Lord Holder. He'd liked it in the Weyr, even with the teasing and all the things he didn't know how to do. Aeris and Kairi had been kind, and S'ora had been something like a friend. Even Athony could have been a friend if they'd had more time.

Something tugged on his sleeve from behind. _Stop moping. It's not all that bad._

Riku paused, not sure if he should look or not. But there was no denying the voice in his head, or the insistent yanking on his robe. Slowly, he turned, finding himself eye to glowing blue eye with the unclaimed green hatchling. "Hello?"

 _Hello? Is that all you have to say?_ The nudged him with her muzzle. Her eyes shaded slightly to a yellow-tinted green. Distantly, he felt her hunger, but it was like an echo, not really the same as the actual feeling at all, but still recognizable. _I am Sorenth. You may feed me now._

"I may—" He laughed. "I may feed you?" Joy bubbled up in him, from somewhere deep in his chest. He _hadn't_ failed.

He'd get to stay.

 _Well of course you get to stay._ Sorenth snorted and nudged him again. She was a pale color, dappled darker in some places, and the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. _Where else would you be except with me? Now, will you feed me, or do I need to go find food on my own? I was in that egg for a very long time you know._

"No, no, I'll feed you." Nothing would wipe the smile off his face as R'iku wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "It's this way." 

Sorenth's head swung around on her neck, taking in everything there was to see as he helped her down from the pile of sand that her egg had rested on. The two remaining blues had found their boys, who looked as ecstatic as he was. He only barely recognized them—one had definitely been a tormenter, but he grinned at them anyway. Sorenth was a bubbly, reassuring presence in the back of his mind, and who needed to worry about bullies when he had her? 

The Weyrling Master nodded as he went past, falling in beside him. Char had settled in the lines of his face, making him look decades older than he actually was. "There's meat laid out for her. Stuff her full, then oil her. Their hides dry out fast right now, and she'll be itching when the growing starts. You have to keep her hide from cracking."

R'iku nodded along, listening with only half an ear as Cl'oud lectured him. He'd heard it before, endlessly, and the faint pangs in his stomach were becoming more and more insistent. Between that and the practiced pace of the Weyrling Master's speech, he couldn't focus.

 _Don't worry._ Sorenth's head lifted, craning backwards to look at him. _I'll tell you if I'm itchy. But right now I am_ very _hungry. He said meat?_

"Meat?" R'iku repeated blankly, shaking his head to clear it. "She's hungry..."

Cl'oud's lips twitched. He nudged them towards one of the long tables, where Riku finally noticed gigantic bowls were laid out. "They're always hungry right now. You get used to it, eventually."

 _I will wait here._ Sorenth settled herself against a wall, looking perfectly content to let her human half walk around for her. 

"Are you _lazy_?" R'iku stared down at the little green incredulously.

 _Yes, I believe I am._ She turned bright yellow eyes up at him. For one, insane moment, he had an image of her pouting, even though dragons didn't have lips. _Please, R'iku? I love you._

Not only was his dragon lazy, but she was also shameless. He shook his head and trotted over to the table, where drudges were piling bowl after bowl with still-warm chunks of meat. R'iku stared down at the shapeless globs, feeling his stomach start to churn with a too-familiar sensation of nausea. Before his stomach actually started to rebel, a firm mental nudge dragged his attention away from the contents of the bowl.

 _Just bring it over here and feed me,_ Sorenth chided. _If you take much longer, I'll waste away and you'll just have to miss me and that would be horrible?_

R'iku wrinkled his nose and tried not to look at the contents of the bowl he'd grabbed as he hauled it back to Sorenth. He also made an effort his keep his mind from wandering forward to the next meal, which they'd have to butcher themselves. Sorenth was lucky he loved her.

A pleased rumble sounded in his mind. _I know._

* * *

Cl'oud saw the last of the new weyrlings tucked in, humans and dragonets alike, before finally letting himself call his duty done. It had only been Zakth's constant reassurances that got him through. None of the weyrlings had even asked about the disturbance during hatching, but newly Impressed riders tended not to notice much other than their new weyrmates. It would be weeks before he could pound anything into the heads and expected it to stick.

He forced himself not to run up the stairs to the Weyrleader's quarters, though it wasn't easy. Zakth told him that Foreth, and Rinoa, were at the feeding grounds, giving the queen her first real meal since the eggs grew close to hatching. It was maybe a little cowardly, but he didn't want to deal with Rinoa yet. He didn't want to deal with _L'eon_ yet, but needed to.

Someone had been and gone again by the time he got there. A goblet of good red wine, no doubt laced with fellis, sat half-full by L'eon's bed. It was still chill from where the wine had been stored below. The man himself was heavily asleep; he didn't so much as stir when Cl'oud came in. Grieth's great bronze head lurked in the doorway, his eyes flashing orange distress. He was too big to reach all the way to the bed from his ledge, but he'd stretched as far as he could to be with his rider. 

Zakth had curled up against the bigger dragon's side, his head nudged up under a great bronze wing. Cl'oud patted his friend's muzzle as he passed, and received a heart-wrenching croon in response. 

_The Masterhealer was called,_ Zakth passed on, his mindvoice just a whisper. _He will be here soon._

 _Thank you._ Cl'oud settled into the chair someone had left by the bed, eyes fixed on his onetime lover. It was easy to see where L'eon had been scored. A thick line cut over the bridge of his nose, from eyebrow to the opposite cheek. It had just missed taking out both eyes by a fingerwidth. The healer had slathered it generously in numbweed, but the angry red and black of the wound showed through. Other, thinner ones trailed down his chest in an ugly mess of raw wounds.

He could have died. If Grieth hadn't gone _between_ as fast as he had, he would have. Thread could eat through a skull in no time at all. Any of them could die, but it had never hit Cl'oud quite so hard that L'eon might be one of them. There were a thousand things he could have missed, because one clump of Thread had been where no one expected it to be.

"I—" Cl'oud coughed to clear the lump from his throat, easing his voice down to a softer tone. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you about Rinoa and... I just assumed. And now everything's twisted up."

"Shut up." L'eon's grey eyes cracked open. They didn't quite focus from the fellis juice still in him, but they focused enough that Cl'oud could feel them on him. "Just shut up. It's not your fault."

A strong, calloused hand stretched across the bed, palm up. Cl'oud took it without hesitating. It was warm, not with fever, but with the same comforting heat that L'eon had always radiated. "I'm still sorry."

"I am too." The Weyrleader's eyes started to drift shut as the fellis took him. "You're not leaving again. That's an order."

Cl'oud's lips pressed together in a pained smile. "Don't worry. I'm not leaving."


End file.
